The combatant
by Droplets of blue rain
Summary: Yet man proposes but God disposes. (Co-written with MasKaiHilFantic, Early birthday gift for Indigo Jupiter)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** **Neither I don't own beyblade, nor my co-writer.**

 **Hello my dearest ladies and gentlemen! Allow me to introduce ourselves. It's me, Droplets of blue rain aka Misty and here's my co-writer, MasKaiHilFantic aka Machu.**

 **A/N (2):** **Yikes, you did not see this coming, didn't ya? Well, maybe you did, whatever xD Misty was more than eager to find a partner in helping her with you a lovely fanfiction, so she came to me. And I was more than honored to help her. And when I found out the cause for the fanfiction, how could I have resisted? Besides, the day I'd deny her, it'll be the end…. Got your mood set? Good. Well I hope you enjoy this generous token of appreciation from the amazing and lovely Droplets of Blue Rain, and from that sucky reality-loving author MasKaiHilFantic :3 (hey wait, that's me). Have fun reading this and we'll see you on the other side of this tale.**

 **So, here's a new fic in a new style. Yeah, this is my first collaborative fic. Guess what? Umm….June is one of my most favorite months. It's kinda full of birthdays and birthdays of my dearest and nearest, sweetest, *every optimistic superlative* people. Yup, I'm talking about you, my dear Indigo Jupiter. So, one of the loveliest ladies in our fanfiction community whom we all know as Indigo Jupiter aka Noni is going to be 22 in this June. This is a birthday gift to her from us. And I'm really honored that Machu has agreed to help me in this. Thank you so much, Machu!**

 **OMG! I'm really a talkative girl! So let it…..riiiiiiiiiiiiip!**

 **Warning:** **Bad languages, gore scenes.**

* * *

As he sank his teeth in the last piece of grilled potato, he chewed it slowly, savoring every bit of the spud as a satisfied "yum" escaped from his pursed lips. And as expected from the typical boyish male, he let out a gentle burp of contentment. Then his eyes glanced at the plate of fried beans just begging him to get his hands on them.

His hunger hadn't gone yet. It was still scuffling in a corner of his stomach.

"What?" It teased the male, "I'm not going anywhere so easily. Simply put me in, my boy, you haven't pleased me yet.'

He smirked. He had a quality – a quality which would be able to satisfy anyone and everyone without too many efforts. But his appetite wasn't much suppressed by his superiority. Defiant as it was, it would often fight against his will. Yeah, always he had to lose in the final round.

Cleaning the plate of beans with his tongue, turning it into a glossing white piece of porcelain, he and his hunger assuaged, as another satisfied sigh escaped from his mouth. He glanced around the restaurant. It wasn't as the fancy restaurants of big cities. Having wooden roof, wooden walls and wooden floor, it was probably based off of those old Western salons that the city once particularly had homed. The walls were designed with oil and water-colored paintings of anonymous artists, colorful origami artworks and oil lamps which hung down from the roof served as embellishment in the modest salon. The flames in each lamp shivered gently along the rhythm of the fresh gush of blowing wind, acting like those blushing girls who were touched by their dream princes for the first time in their life. Nevertheless their hazy brightness dispersed gently within the twilight roaming in the room, creating a seraphic aura in the western espresso bar.

Although his hunger had already accepted its defeat, he wasn't ready to leave the enchanting environment so soon.

Fresh tobacco powder rested before him in a small saucer, and much to his convenience, there were small wads of paper near the tobacco. Innately, he placed a little bit of tobacco powder on one of the small pieces of paper and rolled it. In instance, old-school cigarette was ready.

'Hmm, if I start make cigars like these and sell them in the market,' he thought, admiring the masterpiece which he had made just then, 'I might be rich overnight.'

As he lighted the cigarette and smoked the addictive tobacco, his peripheral vision caught a mannish figure entering into the restaurant. The stranger kept staring at him for a few moments. All in a once, he went out and disappeared like the smog of his cigarette.

Smog of cigars vanishes but leaves its signs in the body of its client.

The blonde male witnessed the man disappearing, almost instantaneously but didn't pay any heed. Placing the burning cigar in his lips, he once again inhaled the intoxicating taste before exhaling the smoke through his mouth. His face instantly eased off, as if nothing which had just transpired perturbed him even slightly. To him, nothing had been as good as puffing self-made cigarettes in his life.

"This is called euphoria," He pondered, "This little cigarette brings a smile to my face every day."

Little cigarette, little things.

He didn't need too much to be happy. He wasn't from those who were served everything on a silver platter. Since his very childhood, he was a laborer. He gave his energy in cultivating the lands of crops, gardening, tending the domestic beasts and selling the dairy products in the market. He appreciated the little things in life, the gentle wind, the morning sun, the color and the essence of anew bloomed flowers, the rhythm of rain, the cheery persona of butterflies, the melodies of the sparrows and of course, his little self-made cigarette. He did not need any high social amenity to please himself. He was simple, free and loving the small pleasures for their purity.

 _He was a man of smile and happiness, and all he ever sought was happiness_ _._

 _ **Spencer Petrov.**_

He could easily be recognized by his tall appearance, blond hair, muscular arms and wide shoulders, toned chest and abdomen, stoic expression in his face and last but not the least, his venerable skills of horse-riding and shooting.

But he was a stranger in the new city. Who the hell would know him here?

 _Yet man proposes and God disposes._

Another figure entered into the café. This time it looked feminine. As her eyes met his, they went widened like big tennis balls. Without glancing at anything, she approached him.

Standing by his side, she hissed almost inaudibly, "You're impossible, Spencer! Sitting here and eating like a pig! You know what the fuck is going on in the town? Everyone's desperate to finding you."

"Sorry Miss, I'm not from them about whom lovely ladies like you daydream," Spencer chuckled, "It's been hours since I entered into the city."

Her jaw dropped, her widened eyes went more enlarged.

'What the hell!' She glowered, 'Has he gone crazy? Are my eyes cheating me? Or what?"

She was about to speak something but her words got stuck at her tongue failing to come out as someone suddenly charged in like a wilder beast as though a fierce bull had taken its entry into its ring just then. His attitude was also like a reckless wild bison, panting and growling.

"Back off, Mathie!" He roared, pointing his revolver at Spencer, "Today I'll rip the bastard into pieces."

"No Aaron, don't…" The young lady pleaded but it was too late. His revolver sounded off.

" **Bang!"**

Unexpectedly, thunder sparkled in the body of the Russian. He stood up from his chair. In his sub-conscious sense, his body was tilted at a side and his hand slid into his pocket, ended up pulling out a revolver. Directing it towards his assaulter, he also pressed the trigger.

" **Bang!"**

All on a sudden, the invader named Aaron winced. His eyes widened in shock and pain. He tried to breathe but his lungs couldn't take in the air needed. The revolver fell on the floor from his grip. Bit by bit, he was completely lulled to his eternal sleep.

The only female in the spot witnessed the small disaster with her shocked eyes. Then suddenly, she grabbed the wrist of the Russian cowboy. Almost dragging him, she ran out of the restaurant, leaving the corpse of a human-faced bull behind them.

 _As a sudden stormy wind blew and extinguished the flames of those oil lamps, like extinguishing the flame of someone's life._

* * *

"Where are you taking me? Let go off my hand!"

Spencer protested as he was trying to free his hand from her grip. But at the same time, he couldn't do it. Perhaps he had enough physical strength to do it but he didn't have enough intestinal fortitude. Besides, his heart was motivating him, 'Go with her, listen to her once. You won't regret.'

"Relax, I won't do anything wrong with you, Mister," The pink-haired girl assured him, "Just come with me."

"Al…alright…" The Russian nodded and followed her trail as she left his hand, understanding the fact that he would listen to her words.

They ended up coming in a dark alley. It was completely silent. So much so that the silence resembled a mighty kingdom, where the darkness was the king and the quietness was the queen. Both ruled with a mighty hold. Maybe that was why the hazy beacons of light or faded frequencies of sound couldn't enter into the empire.

Paying no heed to the king and queen, they straight went into a building. It was also darkened, strangely with the shadows. They could hear faint sounds from outside, most of them were not clear; however they were able to make up some of the musings.

' _Have you seen that man? Oh God! How energetic!'_

' _He can never be Boman, I'm telling you. Boman was never that energetic.'_

' _But he has the features of Boman.'_

' _God, aren't you understanding? If Boman was here, could he operate that revolver so reflexively? He's afraid of weapons.'_

' _Hmm….but Aaron was speaking…'_

' _Let the ox go to hell, he's dead now. I'm hundred plus hundred equals to two hundred percent sure that he's not Boman.'_

' _Maybe…'_

The voices faded away as Spencer turned his gaze at his newest companion.

"Now we're safe…" The pinkette sighed of relief, "Nobody will come here. It's our sheriff's office."

"Hasn't it been a crime for us to enter here?" Spencer raised an eyebrow.

The lady chuckled, retorting, "No, I'm a part-time employee here."

"Oh, okay." Spencer nodded, "So, if you don't mind, can I know your name?"

"Mathilda. Everyone knows me as Mathilda Aster." That was her reply, "And your name….Spencer Boman?"

"No, not Boman." Spencer corrected, "My name is Spencer Petrov. I'm a newcomer in this town."

"Strange…..you just look like Spencer Boman…." Mathilda whispered, "That same shoulders, expression, the broad figure….."

She wondered, 'Where the hell is Boman then?'

"Why did that guy attack me? Do you know?" The tall Russian asked. His voice was thrilled as he could feel the excitement in his heart.

"Aaron." Mathilda rectified, "And his intention was never to attack you, Mr. Petrov," She stated, "Actually he wanted to kill Boman. Boman badmouthed Aaron while they were fighting once. Although it's just a mere excuse of the bull. He was an assistant of Barthez, the biggest gangster in this area."

"Barthez?" Spencer frowned, "But….why will he want to kill Boman?"

Heaving a sigh, Mathilda remained silent for a few seconds. Then she managed to open her mouth:

"It's a long story."

* * *

 **Long story? What's the story by the way? Who's Boman? And what's Barthez's intention? In order to know, keep your eyes in** _ **"The combatant".**_

 **Misty: Do read and review and pardon our errors as much as you can. I'm just a rookie (Not my co-writer although, when he touched this fic, he turned it into a golden one :P) Plus, it's my first experience to write a western-styled story. Be constructive about everything, take care!**

 **Dear Noni, hope you'll like this. :'D**

 **-Misty & Machu. ^O^ _^O^ **


	2. Chapter 2

**Hiya everyone! I'm back, with the awesome MasKaiHilFantic aka Machu!**

 **Thanks to those who have read, reviewed, favorited and followed it. Especially to our darling Indigo Jupiter! Aww Noni…..I've so much overwhelmed by your response! Truth be told, you're the one from whom we've learnt. Again, Machu should be admired more than I, he deserves it! And….who the hell told you to cry in corners? Why am I here, sister? Come on, in my embrace and let's cry together! XD**

 **A/N(2): I really don't know if I should say anything, considering the fact for whom I'm writing this for and with whom I'm writing with have seen me pretty much in every form they could. I'm not going to banter and seek out admiration, I get it and I get a ton of it, even if I'm oblivious to it most of the time. So thank you, thank you for the patience, the kindness, the lessons, the love, the admiration and the moments. Stay blessed dear reader and I hope you enjoy the next chapter to this eliciting exciting thriller, co-written with the amazing Misty. I think it's her cue now… xp**

 **So, in the last chapter, we saw that Spencer was precipitously assaulted by a goon named Aaron. He also met a mysterious lady; Mathilda Aster. Now….what will happen? Let's see! ;)**

* * *

" _It's a long story."_

Heaving out, she stood up. His Majesty of nightfall was wandering in the environs along with his usual escort; her Highness of inaudibility. Hadn't it been so, he could have clearly seen the excruciating manifestation in her face.

It seemed like someone jabbed numerous needles right at her heart. If someone had pierced the scimitar of Azrael in her precious organ of pumping blood, she would have felt more comfortable. Acute it was; unseen and unfelt.

"What is it?" The curious Russian inquired.

No response.

"Mathilda? Are you listening" He reiterated with a murmur but met the deafening silence.

"Hello!" His tone picked up some volume; suffice enough to snap the girl out of her apparent trance.

"Huh?" The pinkette gasped as she knocked herself out from the universe within the confines of her imagination.

"I was asking you something," Spencer grinned, "I thought beautiful ladies are more cognizant than the rest."

"So-sorry, I didn't hear you…" Mathilda blushed, "Actually it _is_ a long story."

"You're saying like it's even before God created Adam and Eve's" Spencer blurted out as his patience wore thin, "If you don't mind, can I know what the story is? Or do I need to be invited to know of this fabulous fairy tale of yours?"

"Hey, lower your voice, will ya?!" The young lady snapped back, trying to stay as calm as she could, "This isn't your house; nor mine, so you better behave yourself!"

The Russian bit his tongue and smiled sheepishly, realizing what he had done.

"I'm sorry…." He began, "I know I got a bit hyper, but I just wanted to know why that goon Barthez wanted to kill me."

"It's alright…." Mathilda's tone softened a bit, "You do have the right to know about it"

"Then tell me." Spencer demanded, agog.

Mathilda plumed out a heavy sigh that January eve, "There's this place twenty kilometers from here" The French girl **(A/N)** stated glumly, "It's called as a veritable dystopia. And that peculiar adage has its own reason," She paused, "the valley is surrounded with three ebony gravelly hills. The land is dry and sterile. Crops scarcely grow there, that's why we have to import crops."

Spencer winced at the projection of the barren land before thinking of Mathilda as well as the residents of her village. After all, he could understand the pain of smuggling crops – the need of food can force man to eat the dead. His land wasn't all that green, notwithstanding being better than Mathilda's.

"But the valley has plenty of water." She continued, "The streaming cascades climb down to the earth from the peaks of the hummocks. They pave their way towards the desert. Ironically they won't go through it. As they somehow reach the edge of wasteland or more, those cheerful waters wane down, eventually drying out. But these streams are able to cultivate soft emerald grass and resplendent flowers, just on the edge where the water touches. The owner of the canyon was…"

"Spencer Boman?" He chimed in.

"How did you know?" The exact "guess" elicited a surprise from the usually serious girl.

"Eh, lucky I guess." He reasoned himself.

"Well your guess is wrong," The pinkette yawned, "The landlord was an old man called Absolon Moraeu. He was a typical French gentleman who used to bear a craving passion for arts and crafts. You've already approximated one of the outcomes of his ceaseless desires in the pension."

"So what should I do, Miss Aster?" Spencer giggled, "Should I perform ballet in front of him? Sorry to say, I can't dance at all."

"Don't need." Mathilda glowered at him, "About twenty days ago, he left the earth and journeyed towards heaven….or hell, maybe."

"Excuse me?"

"He's died, you idiot." Her rose-pink hair was blowing with the pace of the blast of air, "He died falling from his own horse. Unbelievable as well as strange it is, he was a skilled cavalier **(A/N).** "

"Penny wise, pound foolish."

"Maybe or mayn't be," Her tone seduced the twilight, "Although I don't think his horse would be a fool enough to betray him. Let bygones be bygones. He remained unmarried. Searching for his accurate heirs or heiresses, we only found his nephew and niece. The brother-sister duo is currently living in New York. From the very beginning, they are swimming in the pool of gold. Their lust isn't for this valley."

"It means….will it be sold?"

"Not currently." Dramatically the young lass tucked her tresses behind her ear, "Still this Mathilda Aster is breathing along with Spencer Boman. Uncle Absolon used to love us more than his own children. I got the less, he got the more. That's why he's the next owner of the hacienda. My name comes only in the second position."

Her highness of silence threw her death glares at the French lady. Nonetheless, she didn't care.

"But he did have kept a condition." Mathilda again began, ignoring the inordinate court, "In order that the owner can attain it, firstly he or she has to pay 10,000 dollars to the fund of Sherriff. Then in the next six years, the soon-to-be landlord or landlady has to pay 60,000 dollars. If the proprietor is unable to fulfill the condition, the farm will be sold in auction."

"Auction?"

"Yeah, your ears haven't been rotten yet and my tongue isn't also betraying you. Boman is enough capable to pay the amount. Therefore, Barthez and his gang is following him like mad dogs."

"Anything else?"

"Hm." The Mademoiselle nodded, "A third party is also present here. Everyone knows him as Gideon. He's enough solvent to buy hundreds of lands like ours. He is often called the Hades of Saulsberry, the notorious emperor of underworld. Such as pain and panic, he has two reliable servants also."

She stopped. But her heart kept telling the rest, 'I am the Megara. And I need a Hercules.'

"Okay Miss, I've to leave the place now," Spencer looked at his wrist-watch, "It's been late."

"What?" Mathilda raised an eyebrow, "You'll leave the place?"

"Then what the hell should I do?" Spencer almost leaned his face against hers. Their faces were inches apart.

'Eww…' The pinkette whispered, trying to move far. A scent of soil drenched in fresh rain gained entry into her nose, kept flowing in her pulmonary veins along with the oxygen and ended its journey in her lungs.

"Look my lady, already I've ended up killing one," Spencer was about to leave the room, "If I stay here, possibly more angels or devils can die in my hand. Who knows if the journey of my life ends here?"

"But…I thought you'd like to stay here!" The maiden yearned, "Ever since Boman has left the place, I've become quite lonely. And you…look like him…"

"But I am not Boman, Mademoiselle!" He retorted back, "I am a simple living man and I don't want to get involved in any complex trouble! Kindly let me leave."

The French lady remained mum and kept gazing at his departure. With the passage of his exit, darkness again kissed silence. Silence smirked and winked, glaring at the stranded damsel. Knowing her inevitable defeat, she left.

* * *

'Enough this is….'

The Russian young man was mumbling in order to flail his disappointments and annoyances. Going near his black stallion, he stroked its back. In return, it quietly whined, revealing its satisfaction.

"We have to leave the place as soon as possible, pal," He blurted and with a jump, he discovered himself on the back of the dumb beast.

"Go forward!" He screeched, hitting the right frontal ankle of it. Letting out a neigh of agreement, it started running carrying its four legs. As its hooves were smiting the earth, the powdery sand rose from the ground and covered the aura of the hazy nocturne.

The wind was gusting forward, so the hare creature along with its master. Its hooves were still walloping mother earth; restlessly and ruthlessly. If he had watched back, he would have seen someone following him on their stallions. Since there was nothing but air in front of his face, he paid no heed thinking that it was echoes creating by his pal.

To err is human.

Ripping the wind into invisible pieces, an arrow crossed him, almost touching his right earlobe. But it couldn't go. In fact, he didn't let it go. Stretching his arm, the Siberian whale captivated it in his grip. As he whistled, his partner stopped.

Getting down from the horse, he looked back. There were three in total. A violet-haired tall man in the middle with a calm expression who looked like a ghost, a black-haired muscular boy with a medium tallness at the right holding a rude appearance and finally, a blonde short guy at the left whose face was embracing an evil smirk.

Hades, pain and panic of modern age.

"Feeling really nice to meet you, Mr. Spencer!" The violet-haired guy greeted, bowing his head, "Hope you've liked the pattern of our hospitality."

Yeah, it was likable, the cube made of three "S".

Straightforward, strange and simple.

"Who're you?" Spencer frowned, "And why have you attacked me? What do you want?"

"Relax, young man, relax." The lookalike of lord Indigo approached him, "I know young persons like you have a burner beneath your arteries. That's why your blood always keeps boiling. But let me introduce myself and my comrades. I am Gideon, the ruler of the underworld. The fat pig is Goki and the dwarf is Jim."

"But what do you need from me?" The Russian yelled, "Why're you blocking my road? Get off!"

"Uh oh….looks like the heat level of your burner is rising, Mr. Spencer," Gideon's voice was still calm, "Of course we need you. If we didn't need you, why would we hinder your sweet journey?"

"Instead of drawling out enigmas, why don't you cut to the chase and tell me what do you want?!"

"Okay, okay…" The ruler of underworld waved his hands, "Calm down and listen to my words carefully. I am a shareholder of the ranch about which the little girl has told you."

'Gosh, how did they know?' The young man gulped.

"Hey, don't need to worry at all, nobody else will know about this," Gideon kept a hand on his shoulder, "You've to dress as Boman. None will doubt as you almost look like him. Then going to the Sherriff, you'll tell him that you're Boman and you don't want to buy the ranch. Like the structure of pure H2O, I'll buy it. In return, I'll give you 5000 dollars."

"WHAT?"

Spencer gasped. He felt his ears cheating him. He looked at his pocket. There remained the notes of 10000 dollars. This huge amount didn't come from direct heaven. Rather, he had to toil more. He had to shed the sweat of forehead and soak his toes with it. Each of the hairs of his body, the structure of his skeleton, the crimson liquid streaming in his vessels were the usual witnesses.

"What happened, my boy?" Gideon smirked, "Are you suffering from indecision?"

A feminine voice was chiming in the neurons of his brain.

' _You'll go so soon?'_

Heaving a sigh, he smiled and stretched his hand for handshake, before announcing his opinion:

"I'm ready. Tell me where I have to go."

The trio grinned a victorious grin, in the ecstasy of winning a battle. After a long discussion remained for an hour, they left the alley. If the alley had ears to listen and mouth to speak, she might shiver and cry, 'Please don't do…'

They were going to their own objective together with the steeds. He was in the front with his eternal partner.

Dark mount, dark attire, dark night. Everything was dark.

Even he was also jumping in the glooms.

In the cave of his blackened future.

* * *

 **A/N: I don't know what Mathilda's nationality is but this name kinda seems to be French.**

 **Cavalier: in French, it means, "Horse rider".**

 **So how was it, my dearies? Hope you've liked it. Please pardon the grammatical and spelling errors! Do read and review! Before that, Machu! Expand your hand! I wanna high-five! :D**

 **A/N (2): High five soul sister, high five indeed. Well that was quite the experience, never thought they'd end up like that. Well I had a good time co writing this with Misty, she's too good and too sweet to pass out :3 I hope you all liked this and we'll catch up to you all next time in the, well, next chapter :)**

 **Misty: Aww….. *Sniffs***

 **-Misty & Machu ^_^_^**


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